


What Could Be Believed

by sungarden



Category: Naruto
Genre: In front of a mirror, M/M, Plot What Plot, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, alternative universe, crying!Orochimaru, jiraoro, non-con, seme!Jiraiya, uke orochimaru, uke!Orochimaru, vampire!Jiraiya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:45:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungarden/pseuds/sungarden
Summary: "I'll believe it when I see it." What Orochimaru had always said to Jiraiya about fantastical things.  Vampire!Jiraiya/Orochimaru non-con smut, bondage





	

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Jiraiya was a born romantic. To this feather-haired-and-brained mountain man (so tall, so big everywhere – outsized), there were forgotten cities under the sea, sleeping giants in the ground, and maidens hiding on the moon. He was every bit the born literature major (and publisher of poetry and porn) as Orochimaru was the born sceptic, the scientist who sees the mysteries of life as problems awaiting solutions instead of treasures to be preserved. When _Jiraiya_ was the one to bring up implausible possibilities, Orochimaru would huff and say, "I'll believe it when I see it."

Jiraiya winds a possessive hand into Orochimaru's hair, and what Orochimaru could see in the mirror set above the bed, was himself – tethered to the brass headboard by his manacled wrists, his naked body held open and pressed to the bed by an invisible weight.

Closer, inches from Orochimaru's face, are a set of eyes as black as space, red galaxies lurking in its depths – sparks of hellfire, compelling him to look and fall in, drink and be drank. Jiraiya's face was inexplicably young, laugh lines smoothed away, taken over by something too old to age, to die, to be alive. Jiraiya grinned inches from the hollow of Orochimaru's throat, bearing very sharp fangs, "What about _now_ , Orochi?" 

In the Mirror World above, Orochimaru's knees were raised to his shoulders and he's writhing against, around, an invasive pressure, his mouth open and moaning. His eyes were wide with fear and pain, his face was wet with tears. "Stop it, Jiraiya! _Please_!"

Hands that Orochimaru had known, large and strong (dropping onto his shoulder, the back of his neck, curving under his knees when he was too exhausted to walk), the unfamilar feeling of familar hands acting as they never have, holding him down, pulling him open, pulling him apart. Orochimaru's world split into two. Above, he was alone, in the throes of a nightmare (alone, and inexplicably held open). Below, _Jiraiya_ was making relentless, repeated ingress into his tense and tight body, sighing with satisfication as Orochimaru breathy pleads and throaty screams grew weak

Something sharp and wet opens inside of Orochimaru, and finally, something warm and thick spills into him, and the rocking body in the mirror above is still, a pale doll with dull golden eyes, obscenely held open, bruises blooming like purple flowers upon thighs, throat, and inner arms.

Closer, the face of the _late_ Jiraiya (drowned, many witnesses had seen him drowned, _pulled under_ ), licking up Orochimaru's tears. Far above, Orochimaru alone, shuddering, pinned open still, "Do you believe now, Orochimaru?" Fangs that he could feel sinking into the fresh of his throat, hands holding him still even as he sees his reflection writhing alone. The weight of Jiraiya's cock against his thigh, hardening again as Jiraiya drinks his fill.

Outside, the moon is bright, and the night would be long.


End file.
